Touches Me by Thomas Burson (erotic poem)

Touches Me

By Thomas Burson (February 2006)


She reached
across the table.
Ran a finger along the back
of my hand. Laid her hand,
palm up, besides mine.

Vulnerable.

My nerves quivered
with competing
messages.
I could
trace,
with
my eyes,
all the lines
life had created
in her hands --
history crossing
and enriching
all the promise.
Bird wings,
our hands,
at rest
ready
to

take flight,
learn the currents
swirling in the air between us.
Delving into the unknown, our hands
could would chart courses, pioneer discovery.
All that was required was for me to
regain my senses and cover
the invitation with
promise. A
moment
can
hold
a thousand
different tomorrows.
The choice --
mine.

I placed my hand in hers.
She tightened her hand around mine.

I looked up.
Her eyes
touched mine,
filled me full
of a knowing
Love.

I shudder
as I leave
my seat
to circle
around
behind
her.
My fingers
seek to release
the tension I find.
I feel
her shoulders relax.
She turns her face up.
My lips touch hers.
My hands
flow
across her
breasts
free
beneath
the t-shirt.
Nipples hard,
as she sighs into
my mouth. Our breath,
mingled and storied, flows into
our lungs. Tongues touching and telling
each of us that passion is bursting forth -- through
the dam. Our hurricanes will rain and blow, until, we are
spent on each other’s shores.

She turns
slides from her seat.
Her arms circle my waist,
as she kneels -- a saint
of passion's sacrifice. Her fingers
pulling up my shirt, searching my chest,
lips kissing my navel as she undoes me,
all of me, not just my clothes. I pull the t-shirt
up and over her head. She parts the hair of my groin.

Touching me,
hard,
vulnerable,
tender
me.
Kissing
me.
Suckling,
she purrs.
Holds my hands.
I am total
ly
hers.

She
is
perfect.
Eyes closed.
Face joyous.
My strength
swallowed.
Every cell
is focused
on her
perfection.

I explode.
She swallows.
I know she drinks me
for her pleasure.

She touches me.
She fills me .
Only she
can.